


Magnetism

by museaway



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Gift Fic, M/M, Pre-Slash, UST, WIP
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-06-04
Updated: 2014-06-04
Packaged: 2018-02-03 10:47:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,929
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1741955
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/museaway/pseuds/museaway
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Five times the UST in the Enterprise's command team approached critical status, and the one time Spock finally did something about it. <em>This is an unfinished WIP & I have no idea when I'm getting back to it.</em></p>
            </blockquote>





	Magnetism

**Author's Note:**

  * For [synnesai](https://archiveofourown.org/users/synnesai/gifts).



> I'm finally going the 5-1 route! I've had this sitting on my drive since March, so I finally decided to post this first part. The chapters are standalone, and they won't necessarily be in chronological order. 
> 
> This was prompted by the very lovely Synnesai, who is a spectacular artist you can follow [on Tumblr](http://synnesai.tumblr.com/). She wanted a lot of UST, which is one of my favorite things to write.
> 
> This first part references the Halkans from _Mirror, Mirror_.

Mining negotiations are a bitch.

Trudging through them is obnoxious enough with a technologically advanced civilization that has an appreciation for the type of equipment the  _Enterprise_  is packing; but these peace-loving, dress-wearing space hippies have Jim's blood pressure on red alert.

The fact is they need dilithium or they're stuck out here in this bumblefuck of a system. Jim's not footing the bill to get the  _Enterprise_ towed back to Earth, and there's nothing close to a pleasure planet nearby. Jim is not taking involuntary shore leave with the Halkans while they wait for a dilithium drop, not while they're sitting on one of the richest stores in the beta quadrant.

"The council will meditate further," Tharn says politely, "but do not be hopeful of any change."

Jim grits his teeth and continues to smile, edging closer to Uhura. She's wearing a similar expression, one he's seen her use on Spock plenty of times. Spock either can't tell the difference between it and a genuine smile, or he's first rate at faking cross-cultural confusion. The Halkans appear placated by it.

"Any ideas?" he asks without moving his lips, smile locked firmly in place.

"Nothing we say is going to make a difference," she replies in kind. She angles her face toward Jim slightly. "We already gave them historical proof that the Federation is peaceful."

"Maybe they heard about Harrison," he says and wishes he'd sent Spock to deal with them instead of opting for the mission himself.

"Captain, you do have the might to force the crystals from us, of course," Tharn tells him.

"That option's looking pretty good right now," Jim mutters but he merely nods at Tharn. Louder and into his communicator, he says, "Kirk here. Transporter room, energize."

They beam back to the ship despite the magnetic storm that has been causing interference with the transporter signal. There's a delay, a strong tug at his core Jim's never felt when beaming, and he's nervous for the first time using the equipment. He imagines his molecules scattered across the cosmos, or the whole landing party ending up in some parallel universe. But they re-materialize on the transporter pad as whole individuals. This is definitely Jim's ship: the rumble of the engines unique as a thumbprint, that logical voice over the comm system that belongs to the most infuriating first officer in the fleet.

"Mr. Scott, has the landing party successfully returned to the ship?"

Jim exhales through a smile before stepping down, but he notes that Scotty's relief is evident in the way his mouth hangs open wider than usual. It's a second before he presses the button to reply.

"Yes, Mr. Spock. I have them."

"Sensors indicate that the storm's activity will increase over the next twelve standard hours. It is standard ion type, but violent and unpredictable. Suspend transporter activity until further notice on my order."

"Sir," Scotty acknowledges and steps away from the controls.

"Problem, Mr. Scott?" Jim asks breezily, punching him in the shoulder as he exits the transporter room and heads for the bridge. He doesn't wait for Scotty's reply.

***

"Captain, it would be unethical to force them to turn over the dilithium," Spock stresses, stepping away from his science console and walking purposefully toward Jim's chair.

"Spock, c'mon, they're completely unreasonable," Jim says, leaning forward over his knees. He rests his elbows on them and pushes both hands into his hair. "Besides, we're not actually going to fire anything at them. Can't we just...imply that we might?"

"Did you learn nothing when I brought you up on charges?"

Spock's face and voice are neutral, but they exude condescension.

"That was a  _simulation_ ," Jim says pointedly. "This is real life."

"All the more reason that you should not resort to the abuse of power during negotiations with a civilization that abhors such an act."

"Spock—"

"Further," Spock interrupts, "the fact that you are willing to do so supports their concern regarding the future of the Federation."

"Listen," Jim snaps. "We're obviously not going to agree on how to do this, but we need those crystals to power the ship, and the Federation wants the mines. The Halkans have plenty of dilithium, and I'm not leaving here without a full supply and some to spare."

"I do not disagree with your objective."

"Good," Jim says and slumps low in the seat, letting his knees fall apart. He's aware of Spock's hand on the back of his chair, just visible out of the corner of his eye, inches from his shoulder. He imagines it pressed against glass and shivers.

"I disagree with your method," Spock continues. Jim groans and catches his face in a hand, rubbing his chapped lower lip with his middle finger. It's smoother when he's done, so he flicks a tongue over it. He glances up at Spock, who is staring at Jim's mouth.

"What do  _you_  suggest?" Jim asks.

"Rather than attempting to emphasize our power," Spock says, meeting Jim's eyes, "we must demonstrate our adherence to peacekeeping. The Halkans have made it clear that they prefer extermination rather than allowing the wrongful use of power. Therefore, your method would be ineffective. I would advise you to attempt to gain a better understanding of their culture."

"I'm not wearing a fucking dress," Jim says flatly.

"I presumed you would find the lack of pants appealing," Spock replies evenly. At his navigation console, Chekov's shoulders twitch slightly, like he's laughing but desperately trying to hide it. To his left, Sulu coughs. With a glare, Jim burns the word  _traitor_  into their backs.

"So Uhura told you I look good naked?" he offers flippantly. He cocks an eyebrow and licks his lips again. Spock starts; Jim's mouth slicks into a grin, but he immediately snaps it shut when Spock's expression darkens. The hand at his shoulder disappears, probably tucked behind Spock's back. Jim forces his attention on the view screen, watches the gray-green planet spin.

"We must agree to leave empty handed," Spock says firmly. "And we must be prepared to do so, if they continue to refuse."

Jim hears him step away and feels a frisson of relief, but he picks an imaginary piece of lint from his sleeve and flicks it in the direction of Spock's footsteps.

***

Twelve hours and as many cups of coffee later, Jim yawns into his fist.

"Spock, what's the status of that storm?"

"The intensity has diminished. It is safe to resume use of the transporter."

"Finally," Jim says and slaps his thighs before standing. "Mr. Spock, you have the conn. Uhura, alert the Halkans."

"Yes, Captain," Uhura says and opens a channel to hail them.

Jim presses the intercom button. "Bones."

"McCoy here," Bones replies.

"Meet me in the transporter room in five."

Bones huffs his reply. Jim sniffs and yawns again, scratching the inside corner of his eye.

"The Halkans are awaiting our arrival," Uhura informs him.

"Alright. I want you with the away team again."

"Sir," she says and heads for the lift. Jim follows her, but he turns his head when Spock speaks up.

"Captain, a word," he says and rises.

"I'll catch up with you," Jim says to Uhura, who nods. Her eyes are open but bleary, and she stifles a yawn as the doors slide closed. Spock is standing to Jim's left, still alert. Not for the first time, Jim finds himself envying Vulcan physiology.

"I just want to get this over with," he says, rubbing a hand over his face. "I haven't slept in thirty-six hours."

"I did advise that you—"

"I know what you advised," Jim cuts him off. "What is it?"

"I request permission to accompany the away team," Spock says.

"You want to go in my place?"

"Ordinarily, I would not deem it wise for both of us to leave the ship, but in this case, I feel our combined presence may be to our benefit."

"How do you mean?" Jim asks.

"I am a member of a peaceful species. I am also a Starfleet officer. I remain one, despite what happened with Admiral Marcus."

The name makes Jim's throat constrict, just a little. He presses his teeth together firmly and swallows, and he's just so tired. He leans his shoulder into the wall.

"Additionally," Spock says, his voice quieter, "I chose to remain in Starfleet, rather than help rebuild my race. Clearly I deem the Federation's purpose to be of importance. Halkans are aware of Vulcan logic. It may persuade them."

Jim is still for a moment, aware of the eyes on them. He thinks of the day in the transporter room, how Spock looked when Chekov beamed him back on board, dust-covered with one hand outstretched. Jim focuses on the insignia on Spock's uniform and for some reason reaches to straighten it.

"Okay," he says and lets his knuckles skim the fabric. "Yeah. That makes sense."

Spock gently removes Jim's hand from his shirt and holds onto it for a beat, then releases it.

"You should speak with Dr. McCoy about a sleep aid," he instructs gently and presses the call for the lift.

"I'm surprised the two of you argue, as much as you both like to medicate me," Jim chuckles and bumps his shoulder as the doors slide open.

***

The Halkans are impressed that the  _Enterprise_  has a Vulcan first officer. They're more impressed to learn that he witnessed the destruction of his homeworld first hand: the  _Va'Pak_ , Spock calls it.  _Immeasurable loss_. Jim has never heard that phrase before. Uhura takes a deep breath when Spock utters it; Jim touches her shoulder momentarily, a sign of support, and she nods that she's fine.

He studies Spock, the way he stands tall and determined, speaking about something so horrifying, so intensely personal, with a grace that belies what he must be feeling. Because he does feel; Jim knows that. He's felt it, been inside another Spock's head, and that knowledge does something to him. He bites down hard. His eyes water anyway, with respect and humility and pride, because Spock is  _his_  first officer. There's no better in the fleet. Jim's convinced of it, in that moment, and his heart swells.

He thinks about that when they beam back to the ship with a signed agreement, as Spock walks with him back to their quarters, side by side in companionable silence, shoulders brushing incidentally. In the corridor outside Jim's cabin, Spock pauses and turns to him.

"You must sleep," Spock says quietly.

"You should too," Jim says and squeezes Spock's shoulder. Spock doesn't remove Jim's hand this time. His eyes flutter closed, eyelids tinged olive-green with exhaustion. His breathing is slow and steady, and Jim can almost _feel_  Spock somehow, a nudge against his own consciousness, so intimate and private that he squeezes harder. Spock gasps, and it's too much, too close to how he sounded when they were palm to palm in Engineering.

"I'm going to put a commendation in your file," Jim murmurs because he doesn't know what else to say. He feels Spock withdraw mentally and tries to reach out for him with his mind, convince him to stay, just a little longer, but he has no idea what he's doing. Maybe Spock can't even feel him. He nods and opens his eyes, steps away and straightens. Jim curls his fingers into his palm and wishes he hadn't spoken.

"Goodnight, Captain," Spock says haltingly and disappears into his quarters. After the door closes, the faint scent of incense lingers.

"Night," Jim whispers to the empty corridor.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! For updates, or if you want to be fandom friends, you can find me [on Tumblr](http://museaway.tumblr.com), [Twitter](http://www.twitter.com/museattack), and [on Livejournal](http://museaway.livejournal.com).


End file.
